


Summer Lovin'

by rarepairenabler



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Friends With Benefits, Love Confessions, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Shower Sex, So much cuddling yall, camp counselors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 20:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11112741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarepairenabler/pseuds/rarepairenabler
Summary: He kisses like he’s just as starved for it, as if a year hadn’t passed between them without exchanging anything more than obligatory ‘happy birthday’ messages. It feels natural; the way their bodies melt together, Kuroo’s fingers fitting perfectly in the slots of Oikawa’s splayed hand.It feels like coming home.





	Summer Lovin'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sushibomb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sushibomb/gifts).



> just for clarification! They've been on and off since they were 16 (they're 18 in the fic)
> 
> Anyways this is dedicated to Kes, who inspired me to write for this ship again. 
> 
> And to the people who put oikuro hate in the tags - the spite was more than enough to get me through, so thanks for that.

It’s almost concerning how easy it is each summer to fall into the same seamless rhythm. 

Only an hour ago, Oikawa had unpacked his things and changed into a red faded t-shirt that reads ‘Kansai Summer Camp,’ and already he’s found his way to Kuroo’s cabin, a heavy suitcase blockading the door as Kuroo grins and tugs Oikawa down onto his bunkbed. 

Oikawa buries his face against the crook of Kuroo’s neck, his breath hitching when Kuroo’s lips brush against the underside of his chin. Kuroo pulls back slightly, his mouth hovering just above Oikawa’s trembling pulse, head tilting in question. 

With an unsure smile, Kuroo swallows quietly and strokes his thumb along the line of Oikawa’s jaw. “Hey, are we—”

_Are we still doing this?_ Oikawa mentally fills in. In answer, he surges forward and crashes their mouths together, because it’s easier than talking about whatever _this_ is. 

Kuroo makes a muffled noise of surprise but sags against Oikawa in relief, his lips parting invitingly. He kisses like he’s just as starved for it, as if a year hadn’t passed between them without exchanging anything more than obligatory ‘happy birthday’ messages. It feels natural; the way their bodies melt together, Kuroo’s fingers fitting perfectly in the slots of Oikawa’s splayed hand. 

It feels like coming home. 

Kuroo’s other hand drifts lower to the waistband of Oikawa’s plaid shorts. He crooks his fingers beneath the fabric, his mouth trailing kisses along the line of Oikawa’s collar. “So,” pants Kuroo, “I saw you changed your relationship status.” 

Oikawa smirks smugly. “You were stalking me on facebook?”

“Maybe,” Kuroo hums.

Oikawa settles back against Kuroo’s pillow, a pleasant warmth coiling through him when he breathes in the cinnamon scent of Kuroo’s body spray. “My girlfriend broke up with me,” Oikawa admits, shrugging. 

In all honesty, Oikawa was _relieved._

He’d spent the last few weeks trying to figure out how to break things off before summer without coming off as a jerk and without having to admit to anyone (himself included) why it’s crucial that he start his break completely untethered. 

“Sorry,” Kuroo replies, but he sounds anything but as he pops open the button of Oikawa’s shorts, his lips crooking in a grin. He mouths at the column of Oikawa’s neck, the sharp graze of teeth coaxing a whine from the boy beneath him. 

“Shut up,” Oikawa murmurs when Kuroo snickers. 

Smirking, Kuroo draws Oikawa’s lower lip between his teeth and tugs. “Shhh, you’re gonna draw someone’s attention.”

“You—” Oikawa’s words morph into a broken moan, breaths coming out harsh and uneven when Kuroo grins lecherously and palms him through the fabric of his boxers. Hips canting, he squeezes his eyes shut and bucks up against Kuroo’s hand. “ _Fuck._ ”

Oikawa glares when he feels the rumble of Kuroo’s braying laughter against his chest. Oikawa nudges his knee between Kuroo’s thighs, parting them as he fists his hand in Kuroo’s disheveled hair and pulls. His mouth curves in a pleased grin at the groan that escapes Kuroo’s lips. Oikawa’s eyes gleam. “ _Now_ who’s the noisy one, Tetsu-chan?” 

Smile soft and fond, Kuroo snorts and nudges their noses together. “Still you,” he answers. “Especially when it comes to snoring. I can hear you from the next cabin over, y’know.” 

Oikawa makes a face. “I do not _snore._ ” 

“You do! I’d never lie about something so serious.” Kuroo glances up at the hand still coiled in his tousled mane. “You’re gonna mess up my hair.” 

“You mean worse than it already is?” Oikawa teases, purposefully mussing Kuroo’s hair between his fingers. 

Kuroo catches Oikawa’s wrist and leans in, distracting Oikawa with a kiss. It’s slow and sweet and deliberate, somehow even better than Oikawa remembers as Kuroo lowers his other hand to cup the side of Oikawa’s face. For a while, Oikawa lets himself lose track of time. It’s almost as if nothing else exists beyond the comfort of Kuroo’s bunkbed until there’s a sudden knock at the door. 

“Oi, is anyone in there?” comes a voice from outside. It’s too muffled for Oikawa to discern who it might be. 

Eyes wide, Kuroo lifts and promptly slams his head against the top of his bunk. His face contorts in a wince as he reaches back to rub at his neck. “Yeah, sorry! I’m just…taking a nap!”

“Seriously?” Oikawa mouths. 

Kuroo gives a half shrug that Oikawa interprets as, “ _Well what else was I supposed to say?_ ”

There’s a loud thud and then a grunt, like the other person’s trying to shove their way into the cabin. The black suitcase that’s blocking the entrance trembles slightly before sagging back against the wooden door. “Hey, what the—why’s the door locked? I didn’t think our cabins even had locks.”

Oikawa bites his lip to muffle his laughter when Kuroo answers easily, “Door must be jammed!”

“Oh.” The doorknob stops rattling. “Well it’s lunch time and we’re all supposed to be meeting in the cafeteria for our weekly schedules. If you see Oikawa, would you let him know?” 

Kuroo’s brown eyes flit down to Oikawa, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. “Yep, got it! I’ll be sure to pass on the message!”

Whoever is it that’s standing outside grunts in acknowledgement. Oikawa and Kuroo wait, eyes locked, heads craned to listen for the quiet retreat of footsteps until finally, they’re both certain they’re alone. 

Oikawa groans and presses his forehead against Kuroo’s. With a pout, Oikawa strokes his hand along the nape of Kuroo’s neck. “Do we _have_ to get up?”

“We probably should,” Kuroo replies with a sigh but he doesn’t make any move to lift from where he’s got Oikawa pinned beneath him. Instead, Kuroo skirts his fingers along the hem of Oikawa’s t-shirt. 

Oikawa licks his lips and swallows. “Yeah.”

“Or,” Kuroo starts, one eyebrow arching. “ _Or_ we could…”

“Take that nap you mentioned earlier?” Oikawa finishes. He lets out a shaky breath, his stomach fluttering when Kuroo nuzzles against him, Kuroo’s callused fingers tracing along the splay of his ribs. 

Yawning, Kuroo tilts his head against Oikawa’s shoulder. “S’exactly what I was thinking.” 

“Except—” Oikawa’s stomach grumbles. He frowns apologetically. “I think he said something about there being food?”

“Ugh.” As if on cue, Kuroo’s stomach lets out a growl of its own. “Okay, I think you’re right. We’ll get up. Soon, definitely.” 

Oikawa smirks. “In another five minutes?” 

“In another five minutes,” Kuroo agrees as he snuggles up against Oikawa’s side. 

~*~

It’s late afternoon and the sun’s setting over the clear rippling water and casting thick shadows across the bobbing docks. It would be calming, serene sight, except Oikawa could feel the close scrutiny of Iwaizumi’s gaze. “ _What?_ ” Oikawa mutters. He combs his fingers through his hair self-consciously. 

“Nothin’.” Iwaizumi peers out at the lake and then glances back at Oikawa. With a smirk, he jabs his thumb against the purplish mark blooming just above the nape of Oikawa’s neck. “So I see you and Kuroo already reunited.”

Face heating, Oikawa squawks and swats Iwaizumi’s hand away. It’s bad enough that Makki and Matsun hum “Summer Lovin’” under their breath whenever they catch Kuroo’s nearby. “Don’t be weird, we’re just—”

“Fooling around?” Iwaizumi supplies, his tone soft and sympathetic, which—what the hell?

“ _Exactly._ ” Oikawa scowls and folds his arms across his chest. “Iwa-chan, don’t give me that look. It’s been three years now. I’m pretty sure I know what I’m doing.” 

Iwaizumi frowns. Sighing, he bumps his shoulder against Oikawa’s. “You better be right, Shittykawa.” 

~*~

“ _Fuck_ , this is—” Oikawa’s nails scrape against the wooden paneled walls, a stuttered breath escaping his lips when Kuroo’s callused palm slides past the waistband of his boxers before tugging them down to Oikawa’s knees. Oikawa pulls back to shuck off his damp t-shirt and lets it fall between them onto the tiled floor with a _thwack_.

A moment later and Kuroo’s got Oikawa crowded up against the shower stall again. He braces one hand against the wall behind Oikawa, lips brushing against the mark he’d left a few days ago.

Oikawa shudders and tugs him closer, until Kuroo’s practically shielding him from the shower’s spray. 

Oikawa’s gaze slowly rakes over Kuroo’s frame, appreciatively taking in the way the warm water cascades off Kuroo’s narrow shoulders, the stream coursing a sinuous, winding path down across the bow of Kuroo’s mouth, to the dip of his collarbones, trickling along the smooth planes of Kuroo’s stomach before dipping down between his bare thighs. When Oikawa glances up again he finds Kuroo watching him with a smarmy look on his face. 

“ _Don’t_ ,” Oikawa warns, the tips of his ears burning. 

“You were staring,” Kuroo murmurs against the crook of Oikawa’s neck. Goosebumps prickle Oikawa’s skin at the breath against his skin. Kuroo grinds his hips against Oikawa’s, their startled gasps luckily lost over the rush of the water. He presses their foreheads together and slurs, “You think ‘m attractive, admit it.” 

Oikawa rolls his eyes and snakes a hand between them. He curls his fingers around both of tthem and slides their erections together, gratified when Kuroo lets out a startled moan. “Fine,” Oikawa relents. His pulse throbs, heart a heavy sledgehammer against his chest when Kuroo leans in again and catches his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. 

“You’re, hahh, passably cute—I guess,” Oikawa mutters between kisses. “From a certain angle.” 

Kuroo’s lips curve in a smile against his. “I’ll take it.” 

Eager to steer things back towards comfortable territory, Oikawa refocuses his efforts on getting both of them off. He works his hand a little faster, settling into a steady rhythm that has Kuroo shaking against him and arching up into Oikawa’s loose grip. The slick friction’s good, but it’s not _enough._ Still, it’s worth it to draw things out, if only just to watch Kuroo come undone under Oikawa’s slow, deliberate ministrations. 

Nails bite crescents against the hollows of Oikawa’s thighs. A frustrated whine slips from Kuroo’s swollen lips when Oikawa teases his thumb over the slit of Kuroo’s cock. Oikawa smirks, but the victory’s short-lived when the sound echoes off the shower walls and carries through the room—the noise loud enough that they both freeze, their eyes wide and panicked. 

Oikawa’s hand stills. He holds his breath and counts in his head: _1…2…3_

They wait for the obnoxious slap of flip-flops against tile, or for the confused shouts of their fellow campers. Instead, the room’s eerily quiet. The only sounds are the soft trill of the birds, the heavy sound of their breathing and the throb of Oikawa’s own pulse pounding in his ears. 

Kuroo lets out a shaky, relieved exhale, his shoulders visibly slumping. “Thank _god._ ” His palm skims down Oikawa’s arm before settling at Oikawa’s hips. Brow arching, Kuroo observes, “Looks like we’re completely alone then.”

“Seems like,” Oikawa agrees with a coy grin. He strokes his fingers teasingly along the base of Kuroo’s cock before finally wrapping his hand around Kuroo’s hard-on. There’s something dizzying about getting to see Kuroo like this—Kuroo’s eyes are dark and lidded, a splotchy flush arching across his chest, hips stuttering as he fucks into the loose grip of Oikawa’s fist. 

Long fingers dig against the inner side of Oikawa’s thighs as Kuroo tucks his face against Oikawa’s neck and groans. “Tooru,” Kuroo pleads, “ _Tooru_ , c’mon, I need—”

Oikawa nods, both of panting into each other’s mouths as Oikawa pumps his fist faster. He can feel it right before Kuroo comes; his thighs tremble and the muscles of his shoulders go tense and rigid. Kuroo’s chest heaves and his hips falter as he chants Oikawa’s name in time with each sharp crook of Oikawa’s wrist. This time Oikawa is proactive—just as Kuroo comes, Oikawa claps a hand over the other boy’s mouth to muffle the shout. 

“Just in case,” Oikawa whispers when Kuroo arches a brow in question. He grimaces when he feels Kuroo’s tongue lick a strip across his hand. “Real mature, Tetsu-chan.” 

Kuroo smirks when Oikawa tugs his hand back with a look of disgust. His gaze drops to where Oikawa’s still hard. He licks his lips and murmurs, “Can I…?”

“You don’t have to—”

“Want to, though,” Kuroo pants out, already sinking to his knees. Kuroo mouths his way down Oikawa’s chest, his gaze still locked with Oikawa’s as he sucks a mark against the jut of Oikawa’s hip. His palm splays against Oikawa’s stomach, pinning Oikawa in place while Kuroo waits for an answer. 

Oikawa exhales noisily and nods. 

Unlike Oikawa, Kuroo doesn’t draw things out. He furrows his brows in determination, hands wringing like he’s about to crack a safe or something and Oikawa’s just about to tease him for it, when he’s suddenly caught off-guard by the warm, silken suction of Kuroo’s mouth. Kuroo sinks down slowly, pulling back each time to readjust and then taking a little more until finally he’s got his nose pressed against a nestle of hair that surrounds the base. 

Oikawa lets out a strangled, “ _Oh._ ” His eyes squeeze shut, nails scraping against the wooded panels behind him. A jolt of arousal shudders through him with each bob of Kuroo’s throat. 

It’s always been good but never _this_ good. There’s something clever and methodical about the way Kuroo works him over with his tongue and his mouth, almost like he’s practiced but that’s not something Oikawa can think about right now without having to swallow back against the bitter taste in his mouth. 

After all, it’s not like they’re exclusive, Oikawa reminds himself. It wouldn’t be that surprising if Kuroo had found someone else to do this with during the school year. 

Someone _better_ , even. 

The thought hurts worse than taking a serve to the back of the head. 

It’s not until Kuroo pokes him in the ribs that Oikawa realizes he’s scowling. “Tooru?” Kuroo’s voice comes out low and hoarse. His knuckles caress the inner sides of Oikawa’s thighs. “Are you—do you want me to stop?”

Oikawa shakes his head, because that’s the exact opposite of what he wants. “M’fine.” 

Kuroo hesitates, but he presses forward and seals his lips around Oikawa’s cock again. He closes his eyes and pushes Oikawa’s legs further apart as he settles into a steady rhythm. Oikawa has to bite his own palm to stop the litany of curses that are wrenched from his throat when Kuroo teases his tongue over the slit of Oikawa’s cock. 

Oikawa lets his head fall back against the stall and buries his fingers in the wet tangle of Kuroo’s hair. His hips buck forward without his consent but Kuroo doesn’t pull back or falter in his motions, instead his lashes flutter and he groans low in his throat as if he _likes_ it and that’s—well. Fuck. 

Kuroo hums in encouragement. His hands twitch at Oikawa’s sides, guiding him forward and whatever little restraint Oikawa once had is shattered. 

Oikawa thrusts into the perfect heat of Kuroo’s mouth, timing each slow roll of his hips with the bob of Kuroo’s throat. 

It’s not long before Oikawa’s coming. Arousal curls low in his stomach and his hands fist tightly in Kuroo’s hair as he lets out a strained warning and convulses. Kuroo doesn’t pull back. Instead, he soothes Oikawa through his orgasm, his tongue teasing over the slit, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses along the shaft until the overstimulation becomes too much. 

Kuroo chuckles and holds Oikawa up at the waist when Oikawa suddenly stumbles forward. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just—” Oikawa exhales deeply. He closes his eyes, heartbeat slowing while he catches his breath. He strokes his thumb down along the side of Kuroo’s face, his touch soft and reverent. “—need a moment.”

Kuroo plants a kiss between Oikawa’s knuckles before rising onto his feet. “We should probably get out soon. Water’s getting cold.”

With a grimace, Oikawa glances down at his t-shirt that is still clinging to the shower tiles. His shorts feel uncomfortably heavy where they’re sagging around his ankles. Oikawa had practically been herded into the closest empty stall the second he arrived. Which hadn’t left for any time to properly undress. “ _Great._ Now my clothes are drenched.” 

Kuroo shrugs and turns off the tap. “If anyone asks, just tell them you fell into the lake.”

“ _Rude,_ Tetsu-chan.” Oikawa tsks. “Nobody would believe that.” 

“Then tell them I pushed you,” Kuroo quips. He smirks and tugs on his notably _dry_ clothes from where he’d hug them outside the stall. 

Oikawa considers it. “Your meetup note looked more like a random letter or a death threat, by the way. Your chicken scratch is hideous.”

Kuroo’s ridiculous braying laughter carries through the room. “Man, I missed this,” he sighs as he tosses Oikawa his shirt. 

Oikawa numbly catches his shirt, his heart seizing in his chest as he stares. It takes him a moment for his voice to work past the tight knot in his throat. Quietly, he answers, “Yeah, so did I.”  


~*~

“You realize we’re not supposed to take these canoes out onto the lake without supervision, right?” Oikawa says as Kuroo unties one of the red canoes from the dock. 

Kuroo’s hands still where they’re clutching at the rope. “We can go back to the campfire if you’d prefer?”

“Oi, I didn’t say I _wouldn’t_ come,” Oikawa mutters. “I just thought at least one of us should state the obvious.”

He tosses their wooden paddles onto the canoe and soon enough they’re pushing off from the docks together and setting sail through the clear blue lake. It’s the best kind of summer night – the air’s warm, but not dry or smoldering and there’s a slight breeze that feels like a welcomed caress each time it touches your skin. There’s a stillness to it, too—the only noise out on the lake is the shrill song of the cicadas and the sound of their paddles cutting through the water. 

When it seems like they’ve been paddling in circles, Oikawa casts a look back at Kuroo and asks, “Where are you taking us, anyway?”

Kuroo shushes him. His brown eyes glint like he knows _exactly_ how much the suspense is killing Oikawa. “You’ll see soon enough. _Patience_ , Tooru.” 

Oikawa stops paddling. “Excuse you? Did you just shush me—”

“Look,” Kuroo interrupts. He tucks his paddle below his seat and shifts forward to lace one of their hands together. “There. D’you see?” Fingers interlaced, he lifts their hands so that they’re both pointing at the sky. 

“Oh.” Oikawa falls silence as he takes in the sight. The sun’s just starting to set. It hangs low above the water, the beams of golden sunlight refracting off the rippling water. The evening sky’s painted in brilliant strokes of deep blue, fuchsia and blood orange. All around them are the dark silhouettes of swaying trees and hillsides set against a backdrop of a vibrant, burning sky. 

There’s something about staring at sunsets that makes him _ache_. Like if only he could take enough pictures of these summer skies and their colorful wisps, than somehow he’d be able to freeze time, to capture summer and hold it captive long enough to enjoy each fleeting second of freedom. “How did you…?”

Kuroo tucks his face against Oikawa’s shoulder. “You almost have as many sunset photos on your phone as you do selfies,” he teases. 

“M’gonna toss you overboard,” Oikawa threatens, even as he digs his hand into his pocket to fetch his phone. 

Kuroo smiles knowingly. He watches, his hand tracing patterns over the blades of Oikawa’s shoulders, then down along Oikawa’s spine while he waits for Oikawa to finish taking pictures of the sunset from every possible angle. “Sometime during the winter there was this comet and we all went out to watch, and I remembered how you like this sort of stuff.” He tilts his head to the side, his eyes meeting Oikawa’s. “It’s no comet or meteor or anything, but…”

“It’s perfect,” Oikawa reassures him. In that moment, Kuroo’s smile turns more blinding than the setting sun. 

“You think you got enough pictures yet?”

Oikawa shushes him and takes another 10 pictures just out of spite. “Shut up, I’m basking in the beauty of nature. I was serious about tossing you over, Tetsu-chan.”

“You’d have to paddle on your own,” Kuroo points out. 

“I’d make due,” Oikawa hums, shivering when the pads of Kuroo’s fingers press down against his lower back. “So…what else did you do this year?” 

It’s an unspoken rule that they don’t talk outside of camp, that when they’re together nothing exists but the seeming endless summer ahead of them. It’s a stupid rule, Oikawa realizes. 

Kuroo tells Oikawa about his teammates and friends and his classes. 

“Lev sounds like a handful,” Oikawa laughs. 

Kuroo shakes his head and groans. “You have no idea.” 

When it’s Oikawa’s turn, he tells Kuroo everything. It’s not even until that moment when everything comes rushing out that Oikawa realizes he’d spent the school year subconsciously saving stories to share with Kuroo, the good and the bad. 

By the time they reach land again, the sun’s gone down and the only light in the night sky is the pinprick glow of the stars above them.  
~*~  
The second week of camp, Oikawa’s cornered after lunch by one the female camp counselors. 

The girl—Maiya—asks if she can speak to him privately and Oikawa quietly excuses himself from his friends. He knows what’s coming even before she even gets a word out. Maiya’s cheeks are splotched, her brown eyes averted, her hand clenching against her chest as if that’ll actually help slow the race of her heart. Oikawa knows these signs well, though Iwa-chan would probably punch him for saying so. 

Maiya inhales sharply, visibly trying to work herself up to it. 

She’s pretty, Oikawa observes. She’s tall and willowy with long legs and silken black hair that cascades around her shoulders. 

“I-I have to tell you something.” Her hands bunch into fists, the blush on her cheeks deepening when Oikawa flashes her a reassuring smile. “I think—I think I have feelings. For you.” 

It’s the weirdest thing but Oikawa feels as he’s experiencing it from outside his own body, like he’s watching someone else being confessed to. 

She waits, expression expectant, and it’s only then that Oikawa realizes he hasn’t said anything. He winces and rubs at the back of his neck. 

“Ah, I’m sorry, I just—” He thinks of Kuroo, of the lazy summer afternoon they spent laying in the grass field together, both of them panting and grinning when Oikawa flipped them so that he’d be straddling Kuroo’s chest. He thinks of sleep-deprived giggles and open-mouthed kisses pressed against his wrist and long fingers curling in the loose waves of his hair. 

Oh god. “I can’t because…” _I already have feelings for a ridiculous dork who makes lame cat puns._ “I don’t feel the same way,” he finishes lamely, his stomach twisting as tears start to bead in the corners of Maiya’s eyes. 

“Oh,” Maiya sniffs. How many girls exactly like her has he dated? Oikawa’s not even sure himself at this point. That, too, would probably earn him a punch or at least a severely disapproving scowl. Maiya pouts, her teeth digging into her bottom lip as she looks up at Oikawa through her lashes. “Is there…someone else?”

“I—Something like that,” Oikawa mutters. 

He blinks in surprise when Maiya nods in understanding and claps him on the shoulder. “You should tell them how you feel,” she says, rubbing away her own tears. “People are always better off knowing the truth, y’know? Even if it sucks.” 

~*~

“Iwa-chan. Psstt. Iwa-chan.” Oikawa pokes and prods at his best friend until finally Iwaizumi stirs in his bunk. 

“ _What?_ ” Iwaizumi snaps. 

Oikawa reels back, just in case Iwaizumi decides to launch his pillow at Oikawa’s face. “Jeez, Iwa-chan, you’re always so _testy_ when you wake up.” 

Iwaizumi lifts his phone to his face, the light illuminating his frown. “Oikawa,” he growls, “it’s 4a.m. in the morning. This had better be important.” 

Oikawa feels confident that it is. “I’m breaking things off with Kuroo,” he blurts. 

“You’re what? _Why?_ ” 

Oikawa tells him about the confession, about the tightness in chest, about how under any other circumstance his answer would have been _yes_ , except—

Iwaizumi squints at him. “So you’re dumping him for a girl?”

“What? _No._ ” Oikawa shakes his head fiercely. “Lately things have been just getting…too serious. It was only ever supposed to be casual.” He shrugs. “I think it’s better if I just cut things off before anyone gets hurt.” 

“Naturally,” Iwaizumi quips. “But before you do that, maybe just take a second to think things through. You two have been doing this thing for _how_ long now?”

“Since we were 16,” Oikawa answers. 

“Right. So three years now. And every year since then you’ve spent the whole school year looking forward to camp and I _don’t_ think it’s ‘cause of the roasted marshmallows or the old tire swing.” 

“Iwa-chan—”

Iwaizumi pinches Oikawa’s ear. “I’m not finished,” he says. “Every summer you two are disgustingly couple-y—”

“Rude,” Oikawa interrupts. 

“—like you’re trying to make up for lost time or somethin’ and maybe it’s because you both _waste every single year_ being too stubborn to admit you want to be together.” 

Oikawa folds his arms and complains, “It sounds simple when you put it that way.” 

“Because it is? Look, maybe it did start out as a summer fling but I’ve seen the way you two look at each other when you think the other doesn’t realize and frankly, it’s gross.” Iwaizumi sighs. “What I’m trying to say is that you’re good together. Don’t mess this up.”

“Wow,” Oikawa whistles. “Was that just—did you just _emote?_ Oh my god…Iwa-chan’s been replaced by a doppelgänger. The real Iwa-chan died years ago…” 

Iwaizumi scowls and punches Oikawa lightly on the shoulder. 

“Ow, okay, definitely the real you,” Oikawa mutters. 

After a moment, Iwaizumi softens his voice and asks, “Do you think you’ll tell him?”

Oikawa bites his lip as he considers it. “What if Kuroo doesn’t…?”

“Then at least you’ll know?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa agrees weakly. It feels like a poor consolation for heartbreak. With a sigh, he descends the ladder connecting his bottom bunk to Iwaizumi’s. “Iwa-chan?”

“Mmm?”

“Thanks.” 

“No problem,” Iwaizumi yawns. “But if you ever wake me up this early again I’ll smother you with your own pillow.” 

~*~

“Okay, so we’re facing Shiratorizawa—it’s my turn to serve, we’re down to the final set and it’s my turn to serve. The ball goes hurdling across the court like a comet and Shiratorizawa’s scrambling to receive it but it’s too late—the ball hits the floor.” Oikawa closes his eyes. Teeth graze his neck, nipping gently. Hoarsely, he continues, “A ref, _hahh_ , blows on his whistle and Seijoh’s announced the winner. _The whole crowd’s_ cheering my name. Oikawa. Oikawa. _Oikawa_! Iwa-chan lifts me onto his shoulders and—”

Kuroo snorts and draws his hand out of Oikawa’s shorts. “S’not really what I meant about fantasies,” he drawls. 

Oikawa’s lashes flutter open. “I figured,” he confirms, smirking as he pillows his hands beneath his head. They’re laying together in Oikawa’s bunk, face to face, their bodies curled together. There’s something about being alone together like this that’s always made lazy summer afternoons feel like they could last a lifetime, an infinity, even. 

Kuroo smiles. He cups Oikawa’s face in his hands and kisses him with the sort of casual, leisurely grace of someone who’s done it a million times before. It’s nothing like how things used to be the first summer they’d started hooking up – back then they’d been sloppy, uncoordinated, so eager to rush things. Cuddling hadn’t been a thing until a summer later, when a very tipsy Oikawa had mistakenly climbed into Kuroo’s bed after a secret game of ‘Never have I Ever’ with the other counselors. 

Now, Oikawa twines their fingers together easily, just as much a reflex as the winded breath Kuroo draws when they finally break the kiss. 

“Y’know…” Kuroo clears his throat and looks down at the pale sheets tangled between them. “I bet if we were on the same team, we could totally take him.”

“Mmm?” Oikawa blinks as he tries to remember what they’d been talking about. 

“Shiratorizawa’s ace—Ushijima?” Kuroo clarifies. “Dude’s not invincible.” 

Oikawa’s well aware. He recalls Karasuno’s victory with a thin-lipped scowl. 

Kuroo nudges him. “If we went to the same school, played on a team together, I think we could win.” 

_If we went to the same school._

Oikawa stares. He hadn’t even considered the option before. 

Kuroo seems to sense this because he presses on, “Tooru, have you thought about it at all—about what happens next? Summer’s almost over.”

Oikawa swallows. “I know,” he answers. They were both running out of time. For years, summer had meant swimming in the lake, going for hikes along the mountains, skipping rocks across the water, staying up all night to watch the sun set over the water. And _this_. Oikawa wasn’t ready to let go of any of it, least of all Kuroo. 

Every passing second he’s reminded: _It’s now or never._

“It’s been a good summer,” Kuroo remarks as he traces his thumb along the grooves between Oikawa’s knuckles. “I taught a camper how to swim, learned how to double-thread my friendship bracelets, kicked your ass in counselor’s karaoke night—”

Oikawa gasps. “That’s a blatant _lie_ , and you _know_ it.” 

Kuroo smirks and continues, “There was that one time Bokuto streaked across the camp at night on a dare. And the time he did it for fun. Oh! And that time you really _did_ fall in a lake.” 

“I thought we agreed we were never going to talk about that,” mutters Oikawa. 

“No, you agreed. I still have the pictures on my phone. You looked like a wet kitten, it was cute,” Kuroo says, snickering. His fingers loop through the waistband of Oikawa’s plaid shorts. There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes as he skims his fingers a little higher and then presses down. 

Oikawa inhales sharply, his brown eyes going wide. “Don’t you dare,” he hisses and realizes his mistake too late when Kuroo’s shit-eating-grin broadens. Oikawa squawks, a giggle escaping him when the pads of Kuroo’s fingertips flutter across his ribs. “You’re, _hah_ , the w-worst.” 

Panting, Oikawa catches Kuroo’s wrists. It takes a moment of maneuvering to shift their position but soon enough Oikawa has Kuroo trapped beneath him. “Ha!” Oikawa’s chest heaves, a triumphant grin curling his lips as he pins Kuroo’s wrists in place. Heat arcs across Oikawa’s cheeks when he notices that Kuroo doesn’t look the least bit bothered about being pinned beneath him. “Uh.” 

As if unconsciously, Kuroo arches forward and Oikawa meets him half way. Just as their lips are about to meet, Kuroo turns his head away and sighs. “See? This is what I mean. We can’t keep—” He bites his lip. “Look, the way I see it, we have two choices.” 

Oikawa tilts his head. “Which are?”

“Option one: we savor this,” Kuroo suggests. He smiles, but there’s something resigned about it. “These past three summers…they’ve been like a really good dream, y’know? The kind you don’t want to wake up from. If you want, we can make the very most of our last two days of summer vacation and just…appreciate it for what it is.” 

Oikawa feels his pulse leap like stones across the water, his heart sinking in his chest. 

Kuroo’s jaw tenses. “Then we move on,” he finishes. “And maybe…maybe we’ll run into each other years later and we’ll catch up and laugh and tease each other about the fling we had when we were teens.” 

Oikawa’s stomach twists at the future Kuroo paints. It’s as if someone’s poured a bucket of cold lake water over his head. He has to force the words out as he asks, “Is that what this is, then? A _fling_?” 

That’s how it started, at least. But that was before the feelings started, back before they became friends, and a lifetime before Oikawa ever realized how thoroughly screwed he is. 

Kuroo’s eyes meet his. Quietly, he replies, “It doesn’t have to be.” 

And, _oh_. 

Oh. 

Maybe Iwaizumi had been right all along. 

Still holding Oikawa’s gaze, Kuroo says, “Option number two…we fight for this.”

Oikawa lets go of Kuroo’s wrists, his eyes flitting across Kuroo’s face as a feeling of hope blooms in his chest. 

“….We could date. For real, even once summer’s over.” 

“Option two,” Oikawa breathes out. “That’s—that’s what I want.” 

“—I mean the distance would be tough, but we could make it work—” Kuroo pauses. He gapes at Oikawa, jaw falling open. “Wait... _really_? Are you sure?” 

Oikawa nods vigorously, a giddy laugh escaping him as he leans their heads together and cups Kuroo’s face in his hands. “Tetsu-chan— _Tetsurou_. I want this,” he reassures him. “I thought if I never really let you in—that I’d never have to worry about falling for you.” He sniffs and wipes away the tears beading in his eyes. “I thought if I never acknowledged how I felt, that it wouldn’t hurt so badly, but I was wrong. Because it _does_.” 

“Tooru—” 

Oikawa shushes him. “I know, this confession’s stupidly overdue, and Iwa-chan’s probably going to punch for waiting until the third last day of summer to tell you but—god, _I’m so tired of missing you.”_

“M’right here.” Kuroo nuzzles against Oikawa’s hand. He perks up a moment later, as if only know processing Oikawa’s words. His lips slant in a sly smile. “Wait, you missed me?” 

“You already knew that,” Oikawa reminds him. It comes out more fond than exasperated. 

“I _hoped_ ,” Kuroo corrects. He raises a hand to smooth his callused thumb along the dip of Oikawa’s collarbone. 

Oikawa rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to the shell of Kuroo’s ear. “I missed you.” He lowers his lips to the slope of Kuroo’s jaw. His free hand twists in the fabric of Kuroo’s red camp counselor t-shirt. “I missed you.” Their lips brush together. “I _missed you_ , asshole.” 

“Good. ‘Cause I missed you too.” Kuroo’s hands lift to Oikawa’s hips. He surges up and deepens the kiss, turning it into something filthier and starved as they cling to each other. “Let’s agree to never go another whole year without talking, yeah?” 

“I think I can agree to those terms,” Oikawa answers with a smirk. 

Kuroo smiles back. “Hey, does this I can give you the mixtape I made you now without it being weird?”

Oikawa’s brows shoot up. “You made me a _mixtape?_ ” 

Shrugging, Kuroo explains, “So far it’s only “The Bad Touch” by Bloodhound Gang, “Here” by Hellogoodbye and “Summer Lovin’”—”

Oikawa groans. “Oi, _not you too._ ” 

Kuroo’s chest heaves with the force of his hyena-like laughter as Oikawa pokes his fingers at Kuroo’s sides. “What?” Kuroo gasps out between fits of snickers. “It was catchy!” 

Oikawa’s expression turns sagely as he decides, “I’m breaking up with you.” 

“Lies,” Kuroo simpers. “Oho, I don’t think you will. You liiiiiike me.” 

Oikawa raises his eyes heavenward and sighs. “Tch. God only knows _why._ ” 

He gently scrunches his fingers through Kuroo’s hair and pushes it down in front of Kuroo’s eyes. Kuroo watches him do it but doesn’t complain. After a moment, Oikawa stops and asks, “So how are we going to do this? The long distance thing, I mean.” 

“I was thinking of training my cat to deliver messages the way carrier pigeons used to,” Kuroo offers. He wiggles his brows. 

Oikawa bites his lip to suppress a laugh. “I was thinking we’d try texting this time.” 

“It’s a less inspired choice.” Kuroo taps his finger against his chin and smirks. “But it’s got potential.” 

“Plus I’m going to be going to school in Tokyo next summer,” Oikawa casually adds. He watches, pleased, as surprise ripples across Kuroo’s face. 

“Oh.” Kuroo gives him a goofy smile, the kind that makes Oikawa’s heart flutter in his chest “That—yeah that definitely helps. I could give you a tour of Tokyo sometime, if you wanted? I know the city can be an overwhelming place for country folk such as you.” 

“Oi! Don’t put it like that.” Oikawa elbows him and laughs. “But yeah…I think I’d like that.” 

“Cool,” Kuroo drawls as he drops chaste, lingering kisses between the grooves of Oikawa’s knuckles.

Oikawa shivers and shuffles closer, so that their bodies are pressed flush together. He rests his head on Kuroo’s chest and listens to the steady tide of their breathing. He splays his hand and rests it just above Kuroo’s palm. Kuroo threads their fingers together and squeezes tight. In two more days, they’ll both be going home. This summer, like every perfect summer before it, would be ending soon. But there’s comfort at least, in knowing that whatever comes next, they’ll still have each other. 

Outside the cabin, they hear someone yell that it’s time for lunch. 

They both groan. Kuroo peeks up at Oikawa and a moment of understanding passes between them. Oikawa knows what he’s going to say even before he even asks. “Five more minutes?”

Oikawa grins and nuzzles his face against Kuroo’s chest. “Five more minutes,” he agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://tobioslilgiant.tumblr.com/) l [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ambyguity_)
> 
> heck I usually do more editing than this, so sorry if you find any glaring mistakes!
> 
> But yeah, thank you to Gemma, Megan, Nat, Amanda and Becky for the support. And thank you Nicole for betaing this!
> 
> Sorry I've been so MIA with my writing lately, guys, I've just been going through some stuff and the lack of attention my last few fics have gotten has been pretty discouraging but I'm still trying my best to put out fics that I'm proud of aaa


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